We Were Soldiers
by Argenteus Draco
Summary: Some of us were martyers, some were heros. But there was one thing we all were. We were soldiers. A collection of narritives done by those who survived the War against Voldemort. Some fought for the Light Side, some for the Dark, but all were soldiers.
1. Part One

We Were Soldiers  
By Argenteus Draco  
  
Part One  
  
When people tell me war is glory, I laugh. I laugh and laugh and laugh. Because I know it isn't. I was out there, in the field. I watched people I grew up with die. I fought, and I killed. And I haven't been the same since. I will never be the same. Never. In just a few short hours I changed completely. I went from being The Boy Who Lived to being The Boy Who Killed.  
  
That scares me, that someone can change so dramatically so fast. But I knew that even before I changed. So many people I thought would always be ignorant, snobbish, dark and hate-filled joined our side. They died of course, they were the first. Sons and daughters of Death Eaters, they were considered traitors in the eyes of their own parents, and they were murdered in cold blood before the war itself actually began. They were the first casualties, and that's all they were considered. Not martyrs, not heroes, just casualties of war.  
  
There were heroes, though not in everyone's eyes. Ron Weasley, for instance. Not honored in any way, and yet I know he was a hero. He died to save my life. Ron was my best friend all though school. Everyone always thought of him as the heroes sidekick, when in fact it was the other way around. He was the true hero, willing to give his life for his friends and family. And he did. I wish he hadn't though, because it feels like a waste. I'm dead anyway, inside.  
  
I still have nightmares about that final battle; the battle in which Ron gave his life for mine. Just last night that I awoke in a cold sweat, my wife Jasmyn trying her best to soothe me. I'm ashamed she has to do so, because I know she must have nightmares of her own. She lost people she loved too, and she doesn't even know the truth about what happened to them. I knew a few of them, but since they were mostly younger I was never that well aquatinted with them. Cho Chang was the only Ravenclaw I ever really knew well, besides Jasmyn, and she's dead as well. She killed herself three days after I told her what had happened to her own husband, Terry Boot.  
  
I'd like to be able to tell myself I'm not responsible for that, but I can't. Even though in my mind I know it was Voldemort's fault Terry died, in my heart I know it was my fault Cho had to also. As he was my comrade, it was my duty to tell Terry's family members what had happened to him. But perhaps I could have chosen not to tell Cho exactly how it happened, and just say he died in the line of duty. And yet, she asked what had happened, so perhaps it's best.   
  
Perhaps, everything now is a perhaps. A what if. A Maybe. There are too many of them to count. Perhaps I could have saved Ron if I'd been just a step quicker. What if I'd killed that last Death Eater in the Battle of River Drell who had supplied the information for the final battle. Maybe if as far back as fourth year, things had gone differently, all these people wouldn't be dead now.   
  
Life is full of what ifs and maybes, and we'll never know how they could have turned out. We all make choices, and that's the path we take. We can't turn back and change our course. And even if we could, I wouldn't go back. Because despite all the heartache and pain, I know I fought for a just cause; I and my comrades. And I hope that future generations will remember us when they go to fight. Some of us were martyrs, some of us were heroes, but there was one thing we all were.   
  
We were soldiers. 


	2. Part Two

We Were Soldiers  
By Argentues Draco  
  
Part Two  
  
It's been three years now since the war ended. Three long years filled with both heartache and joy, pain and healing. I've felt pain at loosing loved ones, but joy in healing others. Because in the process, I've healed slightly. But I know I'll never heal completely, some wounds just never close.   
  
I lost so many people in that war : Harry, who was never the same afterwards; Pansy, who became more of a friend to me in three months of war than five years of peace; Parvati, who committed suicide upon hearing of her sister, Padma's, death; Lavender, who was an auror; my parents, who were killed in one of the first muggle attacks, and Ron, who meant more to me than any other single person.   
  
We had been married only eight days when he was called off to fight. I remember it like it just happened yesterday, when in reality it's been seven years since I saw him last. Seven years since his face lit up in a grin, and his eyes danced above a spotting of freckles that seemed almost childlike. And I'll never see that again. But Ron died protecting others; his death was not wasted.   
  
I miss him so much. There was so much he never got to witness : the birth of his daughter, his best friends wedding - at which he was supposed to be best man, the winning of the war... So many things he never saw. He was so young, only nineteen when the called him to the battle.  
  
He was dead at age twenty-two.  
  
While the years after have all been blurred together, there are several days that stand out all too clearly in my mind. The day I received an owl from the ministry stating simply that Ron had died, the day my daughter - Rona, after Ron - was born without her father to give his blessing, and the day Harry finally came home, and told me what had really happened to Ron.   
  
I often wonder now if I'd have preferred not to know what really happened, how he really died. Harry was by his side when breath left him, and he told me that last words on Ron's lips had been "Tell Hermione I love her." But I knew that. He told me that when he left, and I never forgot. I never will.   
  
The only thing that really bothers me is that I don't think Ron really knew how much I loved him. I regret that know, and I just wish I had said it one more time. Just once more, even though I probably said it twenty times that day alone. Because that's how much I truly loved him. And now I know I can never say it again.   
  
There are hundreds of things I wish I'd done differently, telling Ron "I love you," one more time is just one of them. I know that I can't change those things, no matter how hard I wish I could. All I can do is try not to make the same mistake again. So now, every night when my daughter goes to sleep, I kiss her and tell her I love her. She probably finds it annoying, to hear the same thing so many times in one day, but that's because she doesn't understand yet. She's too young to understand, only six. One day, I'll tell her everything. One day I'll tell her why she has such red hair, and why she has no father or siblings. And one day I'll tell her what really happened to her father, and how we all grew up. But there's one thing above all that I'll tell her that day, about her father, my friends, and even me.   
  
We were soldiers. 


	3. Part Three

We Were Soldiers  
By Argenteus Draco  
  
Part Three  
  
There are two sides to every war : good and evil; winning and losing. In this case, I was on both the losing side and - what most people would consider - the evil side. Being locked away for so long has given me time to consider both, although only one has left me with a definite answer. We were on the evil side of the war because we fought for the wrong cause, although to us it seemed they fought for the wrong cause; the members of the light side I mean.   
  
What makes me truly think is whether or not we really lost. We still killed nearly half of Britain's muggle population, which is sure to show in the future. And I personally accomplished many of the goals that I had when I first joined my father and his cause. I watched many of my school-mates - including the traitors who turned their backs on us - die. I even had the pleasure of killing some of them.   
  
Potter probably thinks he won this war. He was as big-headed and noble as ever when I last saw him, on the final day of the battle beside Weasley's dying body. He, of course, has no idea I saw him then. All he knows is that he caught the Death Eater who lurked near his friends body, and that later I was among those sent to Azkaban. He doesn't - and cannot ever - know that I killed Ron Weasley.   
  
When I had originally planned it, I had wanted Potter to know that it had indeed been me who had done it, and that I had finally paid him back for all the misery he caused me during our seven years at Hogwarts. I would have liked him to tell Granger all about what happened to her precious husband. But now I think I like it better this way. Knowing Potter, he would have wanted closer on what happened to his best friend; he would have wanted to know that the person who killed Ron rests in the grave too. And as long as I stay quiet, he'll never get that closer.   
  
These thought have been all that's kept me sane over the years. They bring me pleasure, and yet they aren't the happy thoughts Dementors feed upon. Unfortunately, not all in the fortress are so lucky as I. My mother, arrested for treason after the war ended, died screaming for my father just a month after she came. My father of course wasn't even there, he was killed in the war itself by Arthur Weasley, which only made me more determined than ever to kill Ron.   
  
There were others like my mother as well : Crabbe and Goyle, both year-mates of mine, the were the first to die in Azkaban; Macnair, although he faired longer than the others, still dead within the first year of coming; Nott, Avery, Pettigrew... The list goes on and on.   
  
I am one of the only ones left, and I know I too will one day meet my end here. If not from insanity, from lack of clean air or water, or I may have to take my own life from this Earth. I only hope that the members of the Light Side, for their own sakes, do not get too cocky. They may have taken out one group of us, but if history has taught us anything, it's that it repeats. There will be others like us, fighting for the same cause and the same rights. But we were first.   
  
We were soldiers. 


	4. Part Four

We Were Soldiers  
By Argenteus Draco  
  
Part Four  
  
The grass is always greener on the other side. Until, of course, the green grass on the other side is covered in the bodies of the dead and dying. That's how my husband described everything after the final battle of the War. I wasn't personally there to see it, but I know from the dead look he had gotten in his emeral eyes that it was worse than I had ever imagined.   
  
We had been married only five days when he told me that; he a man of twenty-two, and I a girl of twenty. It's amazing the difference those two years made, I was just graduating Hogwarts the year he was called to war, still at an age that excused me from the drafting lists. He had been such a lively boy before the war, only older than me by two years. When he came home, and asked me to marry him a week after, I was shocked by how much older he seemed. But I can understand; he watched many of his friends die.   
  
It's different with me. While many of the people I grew up with - Cho, Terry, Padma, Mandy Brocklehurst, and many others - died, I didn't have to watch it. I only know what other people told me, and I could choose to block out the voice of that person if I wanted. I know it must have been harder to block out dying screams, Harry told me that much.   
  
There are so many things different about the people who survived; some good and some bad. Hermione almost seems to care more for everything now, and she lets everyone know that. Harry, on the other hand, seems almost dead inside on some days, and I know he's thinking about the final battle. Many people chose to commite suicide upon hearing of the death of loved ones, but the pain seemed only to help others, to make the stronger in some way.   
  
I think I may have been one of those people. With every war comes good and bad, and I happened to get lucky. I won out on the chance for good. For that I am grateful, but I know it had to come with a price. While Harry survived, countless others died; while my love returned home, hundreds of other girls lost husbands, brothers or sons.   
  
Even if we refuse to admit it though, we all gained something from this war. Whether it be the knowledge that the cause you fought for was right, or a higher respect for the people who gave their lives, we all have something we didn't have before. Each of us may also have gained something unquie to us. I, for instance, have gotten back in touch with a part of myself I thought I left behind with my muggle family, my creativity. In the seven years since the war began I have used a love for writing I fogot I had to encourage the fighters, educate those on the homefront, and honor the dead. I wrote several poems for specific people, and one of them was written at the base of a memorial statue at the sight of the final battle.  
  
I remember - out of all the times I've visited that statue - the day I was there with Harry for the first time. He wept upon reading the poem, and he wasn't the only one. A stranger to whom I had never personally spoken came and told me what a beautiful job I had done on that piece, his face plainly showing that he had cried here as well. How he knew me I will never understand, but I will always remember his face, and his exact words.   
  
"We may not know it, but every one of us fought. Even those on the homefront, you helped in ways you cannot imagine." And he was right. No one in the wizarding community was left unmarked by this war; we all fought; each one of us.  
  
We were soldiers. 


	5. Part Five

We Were Soldiers  
By Argenteus Draco  
  
Part Five  
  
There are times in everyone's life that you just never forget. And I will never forget the day of the final battle of the War Against Voldemort. The Light side had been completely unprepared for the attack. There had been a party the night before; everyone was sleeping in. The hospitals were un-croweded and the nurses were told to rest a while. Several soldiers were put off duty for the time. I was one of them.  
  
I remember being at home when I heard about it. Several of my friends had been over the night before, and Remus Lupin had spent the night. We were just sitting down to breakfast when he turned on the radio and we heard it.   
  
The light side base had been attacked. Hundreds were dead already, and more wounded. Still more were fighting the enemy back, and the casualties on the Dark Side were almost as heavy. And I was at home, with hot food in front of me, and in no danger.  
  
The rest of the day is still a blur to me. I set out immediately, Remus with me. Although he hadn't truly been enlisted nor had he volunteered, he went. I don't remember getting there, but I remember seeing the destruction. By the time we arrived the battle itself was over. Several small fights broke out over the next few hours when those surviving members of the Dark Side were found, but nothing more than that happened.   
  
Remus and I began trying to help in the hospitals. I'll never forget all those people lying in those beds, crisp, white linen stained crimson with blood. Some of those men were missing limbs, others bore wounds that were strictly non-magical. And so many of them were still only boys. My godson, Harry, who was only twenty two at the time, lay in one of those beds, pale and sweating. I spoke to him when he woke up, but he refused to talk about what he'd seen. He didn't want to think about it. No one did. I don't blame him.  
  
There were other faces that stand out clearly in my memory. George Weasley, who was in all night, having seizures from exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. His twin brother, Fred, who sat vigil beside his bed that whole time, his face pale and sweating. A little boy who couldn't have been more than eight in the black robes of a Death Eater, fighting for his life after the Dark Mark on his arm was found infected; his left arm had to be amputated.  
  
We treated both sides in that hospital, not just members of the Light Side. I still feel my insides twist when I remember some of things I saw there. War is not all glory, as Harry so eloquently put it. In fact, there is very little glory in actual war.  
  
That does not mean, however, that no glory comes with war. And it doesn't necessarily come in the form of medals and badges. Those things are purely material, and for war to be justified, there must be more than that. Like a man who can go home to find his true love and marry her. The knowledge that you helped save at least one life for each you took.  
  
A little boy without an arm being adopted into a new family that will love him no matter what, despite what he may believe and what he went through with his first family.   
  
I have seen both war and glory; pain and happiness. None of my comrades didn't. Even those who died. Because there are three things we all knew when we marched into battle: that we would die fighting if necessary, what would happen when this was all finally over, and what we were.  
  
We were soldiers. 


	6. Part Six

We Were Soldiers By Argenteus Draco  
  
Part Six  
  
When you get the chance to sit it out  
  
I hope you dance I hope you dance.  
  
Our regiment in the war was quite small. Just fifty or so in all, and while that may seem like a lot, it really wasn't, not compared to the regiments of a hundred or more my brothers fought in.  
  
We were the Witches Relief Force, a group of young girls just out of school who entered the war just when things were starting to look really bad for the Light Side. It wasn't all glory and saving the day though, not nearly. Women hadn't been included in the initial draft as the men had, and before us, none had volunteered. We were laughed at, and sent home at first. "We need warriors," they said, "Not women. If you want to help, work in the hospitals."  
  
Some of our number did stop there; most didn't. We came back to the volunteer station day after day. We had our family members already in the army speak to commanders about letting us in. We proved our worth and loyalty by turning in several Death Eaters caught where the army couldn't go in strength. And, finally, about a month after the first visit, they let us in.  
  
We were told by almost everyone that we wouldn't make it; that war wasn't fit for women. Some of us didn't, but not everyone made it in the men's regiments either. It isn't that one gender isn't fit for war; some people are just less well suited than others.  
  
We were a small part of the big army, but we were there through everything. I was there when the Light Side won its first major battle, and we helped bring down Death Eaters in that battle. The group was in the field when the Dark Side attacked at the river and was forced back, taking as many casualties as we had in the whole war so far. We were there, in the field and the hospitals, when the final battle took place. And we sat by the sides of the wounded and dying, offering what little comfort we could, just as they would have done for us.  
  
Someone in my brother Ron's regiment said we were like a family; we looked out for one another, we helped each other when we were in need, and we stayed together through the end. And in that sense we were. However, I haven't spoken to several of my comrades for months now. Many of the people I fought alongside were people I had only known by face before. We came from every aspect of life: muggle-born, pureblood, half-blood; we had people from all four Hogwarts houses and a few who hadn't even attended Hogwarts. We had never been friends before then, and yet we were able to work together to help win the war.  
  
By the end of the war I knew everyone in the army as personally as if they were related to me. And I realized there were two very different kinds of people in the group: those who would get up and dance, and those who sat there and took orders. We were in the group that danced. We fought for our right to fight, and we won. We were out there; we proved we were just as strong as the men, physically and mentally.  
  
We were soldiers. 


End file.
